The Gear
by Monkeybandit2
Summary: ... What's a gear to do when cast into a new reality? That's for him to find out. (One shot)


**I do not own Gears of War. Nor Evangelion.** **Nor anything else worthy of a lawsuit so there!** **Besides, this story is for entertainment purposes only!** **So - you!** **Fanfiction (the written stories, not the website (no offense) for the win!**

 **And as many of you may know, I seem to have a weakness toward breaking into previously unwritten areas. As such the goblins in my head carried things from there once the idea is born...** **(Cough.)**

The Gear

Unknown

He wasn't sure whether to laugh, to cry, to growl, to deem himself insane or some other option he wasn't able to think of at that very moment. The only truth and reality he was willing to accept without qualm however was that at this very moment he was afraid of the simple act of opening his eyes and beholding the nightmare that was his own survival. Worse yet he could still feel the second skin that was his armor still clinging to him, the boltok at his hip, and he was fairly certain the hammerburst was laying close enough to him that he would be able to blindly grab it with little effort. But alas it was only a matter of time before he was forced to move and he knew it, especially as a merciless sun beat down upon him from above.

When he opened his eyes he was greeted by the gentle blue sky above with but wisps of clouds to accompany it. Not too far and eagerly blinding him was the sun. Judging by how bright it was and its position he could only guess it was before noon. Perhaps the afternoon, he wasn't sure nor was he overly eager to debate it with himself. With a reluctant grunt Dominic Santiago pushed himself up to a sitting position and starred at the almost familiar yet foreign landscape before him; the town before him down the hill, though it had seen better days, did not look like a war torn nor lusterless abode of what he was overly familiar with. What few large signs he could see had also seen better days but were nowhere near the brink of toppling over or else crumbling under their own weight. Regardless, what commanded his attention however was the strange language they bore which he couldn't make heads or tails of. Worse yet nothing came to mind in what he knew as a language similar to it, not that he spent much time learning much beyond his native language though.

He looked down to himself and peered on at his hands as he opened and clenched them repeatedly. He then reached up to his face and mildly slapped himself on both cheeks, one at a time, to ensure that this was indeed reality and not some form of belatedly realized heaven given the distinct lack of fire and brimstone. Once he was satisfied he got up and dusted himself off at a sedate pace as he looked around, hoping to find recognizable sign as to where he was and perhaps how he got here. After rudimentarily cleaning himself he knelt down to retrieve the hammerburst from the ground which he slapped onto the magnetic plate onto his back. After giving the grassy hill he had found himself on a final glance, again searching for either a marker he half knew or even a crater from his landing for all he knew, he descended the hill and went to the town below.

XVX

There was a certain feeling in the air, one he couldn't quite place. Angst? Terseness? He wasn't sure. Perhaps the lesser cousin of the word Tense since showing up. The Stranded here, actually they were too well dressed and supplied to be called that, they weren't even all that defensively aggressive either, immediately took notice of him. they also made almost no effort in noting he had a rifle on his back and a revolver to his hip. Thankfully though they seemed content with keeping to themselves for the moment and looking at him from the corner of their eyes. Even a genuine police officer, a station he hadn't seen in what felt like an age and a half, seemed too scared to even try to go near him. Still he kept his pace as slow and unthreatening as he could as a man can while wearing such bulky armor, carrying weapons of war meant to kill such a man. He even tried to make himself as friendly as he could without a forced smile, an act he couldn't for the life of him perform. Sadly however that did not work out: his minimalist nodding and small waves, even a few verbal greetings were seldom returned in favor of confused stares and some uncomfortable shifting. What few that returned the gesture on a verbal level spoke a language just as strange as their evident writing; the same script from the billboards and signs could be found on posters all over the place, most of which being some sort of advertisement.

Seeing as he was lost and no one spoke his language he ended up meandering the town at his own accord. By doing so the more he came to realize that this wasn't by some means a community formed by a sizable band of Stranded but a fully functional town in its own right much like the days before Emergence. That there were indeed stores running, a government at work, people at ease, till they see him and his holstered guns of course... it was like he stepped back through time to a time before things went to hell and then to shit. He was almost convinced of that too had he not stumbled across what he soon learned to be a metro station of some kind, really a platform at the edge of town built around some railroad tracks. For minutes on end he couldn't help but stare at an unfamiliar map through an alien country on an island he was quite certain he would have vaguely remembered as far back in his basic geology or rudimentary political classes...

It still didn't help matters that he couldn't make heads or tails of whatever language was in use here.

After some scrounging he had lucked upon a world map which further convinced him that he had not somehow miraculously went back in time once he found the island he was on. While a part of him was relieved, it also served to confused him even more. Wherever he was it was definitely not on Tyrus nor any other continent he could name. Not even the nearby islands of its coast or any other of the neighboring continents and its subsequent nations...

As much as he tried, after an eternity and remembering everything he had learned or heard off hand as best he could he couldn't recognize this island he was on nor the separated continents that littered the map. What hope, or rather quiet terror, he had that perhaps he had somehow survived the crash and the explosion and was somehow... dumped, propelled like a comic book character?... into some strange piece of paradise that the Lambent or Locust hadn't touched was rapidly dwindling as he fought the bile that wanted to form at the back of his throat. It was a feeling that only grew more intense the longer he looked at that map, looked to his surroundings lit in the setting sun and direly read the foreign script with a beggar's hope that something, anything that clicked with familiarity with such urgency that he again roamed the town for the sake of his dying hope... Eventually his legs of lead had guided him to the park where he wearily settled onto the first convenient bench he could find. With a crunched up map in hand he had clutched and supported his own head as he leaned forth, bitterly accepting this strange reality he was forced to partake in where the COG evidently never existed. A world that the Locust never ravaged with wanton genocidal bloodlust nor further beset by the indiscriminant and brutal Lambent...

A world where despite his proof of life he wasn't able Marcus, Sam, Anya, Dizzy, Clayton, Baird, Cole and anyone else he had and hadn't met in their most desperate hour yet even if it meant being the next sacrifice to make once again for all the good it would do...

Sniffling drew his attention, a welcomed distraction from his self pitying and what he had inferred from this reality.

In his short lived search he took note of the evening sky turning to dusk, but his attention focused most on a young brown haired child no older than perhaps seven years old whom was sitting on an identical bench not that far away from himself. Like himself he was bent over and cupping his own head, neither hand providing much in the way of stemming the tears which were trickling rivulets down his arms.

Seeing this he got up and carefully plodded over to him. For better or worse it seemed not even the unintentionally heavy thudding of his equipment on pavement was enough to draw the child's attention to him as he approached. He didn't even seem to sense his presence as he knelt close to him but stayed perhaps a little over half a meter away at most so as to not overly invade his personal space. Before he could open his mouth however he couldn't help but frown all the more as the thought of the apparent language barrier came to the forefront of his mind just as he was about to speak up. Given how young he was it wasn't farfetched that he only knew his native language, his adult counterparts not withstanding of course. Then again he wasn't exactly keen on simply leaving the kid by himself.

"Hey." When the kid snapped his head up, watery eyes questioning him whilst regarding him with startled fright the older man continued himself, "are you alright?"

He didn't react beyond instinctual sniffles from his previous affliction. At the moment he even looked liked a deer ready to bolt though, yet he didn't as he continued to regard the once gear.

"Can you understand me?" he asked despite knowing better. And as he expected the brown haired child only continued to stare at him in return. Thankfully however with time it seemed he was becoming a little less apprehensive of the situation at hand. His sniffling had quieted down as well.

With a sigh Dom Looked up to see if there were any adults within sight other than himself. With any luck he could flag one down and attend to the child in his stead, assuming of course they were brave enough to even come near him. Alas there wasn't any. He couldn't even find any when he properly stood up and looked around. As such, with a resigned sigh, he solemnly turned to the child with a grimace as he considered what to do as he hopelessly stared up at the older man. With another sigh, this time of resignation, he acted on the only thought that made any sense to him now that he involved himself with an obviously distraught child short of coldly walking away.

With an offered hand he reached out to him with a grimace of a frown etched onto his face. "Let's get you back to your family, okay?"

The child stared at him. Then his hand. Then to him again before slowly reaching out with a shaking hand and grasped what he could of the man's much larger hand.

"Alright. Let's go."

 **A/N: And there's that.** **As I said I basically saw some unmarked territory and acted upon it...** **Sadly however I have no interest beyond that.**

 **Beyond Good Morning (my other and sadly hadn't been updated work), I feel that any crossover with Evangelion has basically been done to death. Though I admit this may stem from my own love/hate relationship from** ** _gunman_** **'** **s own works...** **there is nothing I can say that would be construed as anything less than a petty rant about that subject.** **The most I can offer is that he has a** ** _lot_** **of Evan/anything stories and I keep going back to read them much to my own chagrin.** **On another note if there is any other Evan crossover worth a read, hopefully one which would make me reconsider, feel free to mention it.** **I won't promise anything however.**

 **Anyway.**

 **Basically other than seeing the unclaimed territory I kind of wanted to set an archetype if you will out of my own curiosity to see if it would take. I mean at a passing glance at least it would seem something of a perfect pairing:** **Dom (Gears of War 3 version) being a father figure to a distraught Shinji whom is basically fated to endure a miserable childhood (at minimum) between the death of his mother and the abandonment by his father.**

 **It was an idea at least. A stone cast into a pond to see the ripples really.**

 **Still, I hope you enjoyed this for what it was worth. But again for clarification:** **I have no plans toward continuing this beyond a one shot.**

 **Monkeybandit2, making off with your attention. No refunds.**


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